


Life at Skyfall: Domestic Drabbles

by BringOnTheFandoms



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types, SPECTRE (2015), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Cats, Cute Q, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Kissing, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Q's cats will be the death of James Bond, Rating May Change, Retirement, Skyfall, romantic Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-06-01 11:04:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6515869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BringOnTheFandoms/pseuds/BringOnTheFandoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whisking Q away to Skyfall was the best decision James Bond had ever made. This is a collection of drabbles about their lives together after their incident in Something to Come Back To. Can be read on its own, but why not check out the prequel while you're at it? Inspired by Tsuyu's prompt: "After Bond retires and drags Q with himself to Skyfall (which in my mind is still standing)"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Getting Soft

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tsuyu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsuyu/gifts).



_James sat strapped in the medical chair. The cuffs around his wrists sliced into his skin as he struggled to pull his knuckles through the white band cutting off his circulation. The whirring of the drill grew louder as the metal neared his skull. Soon, he would forget who he was. He would forget everything. Every mission he’s ever been on, every morning he’s woken up next to his lover, every warm cup of tea and sunny self-assigned getaway after missions. All of that would vanish, leaving him a cold, empty shell that lay vulnerable in front of the wrong people. It was almost starting. Opening his eyes for the first time since the whirring began, his eyes settled on the only other occupant in the room. Tear-flooded eyes were boring into his own, a clenched jaw adding an old seriousness to a youthful face._

_A shaking, thin body battered and bloody from the torture they received before they were pulled into the room and strapped to the lone chair facing Bond’s. He sat there, watching the scene before him. And sadly, that was all the other man could do. Watch. Watch as James forgot all about him. About the time they’ve shared and the moments they’ve had. All of it was to be ripped from them. And the agent knew that they would never get a chance to start anew. They would be strangers in one of their minds. And the crying person in front of the agent would be no one to him in just a few minutes. A face. And it would kill the young man, but James would never know why._

_The drill had almost met its mark._

_“I love you, James,” a soft, familiar voice whispered._

_Then it all went black._

James woke with a start, gasping and jolting up in bed. Wiping the sweat off his forehead, he focused on slowing his heart. A pair of green, sleepy eyes stared up at him from a fluffy heap by his feet. Bond held a finger to his lips, urging the cat to stay quiet. He hoped he hadn’t woken his bedmate. Looking to the side, he knew that he hadn’t based off of the pale torso and unruly mop of hair lying on the pillow next to his. Carefully shifting in bed, he settled on his side and wrapped an arm around the warm skin of his companion’s side. He propped himself up on his elbow and gently kissed the smooth shoulder that he swore was only there to tempt him. A soft sigh came from its owner. 

“Time to wake up,” James whispered against his lover’s skin. He gave it a soft peck and then rested is chin on the same spot. He only got an incoherent muttering in response. Shifting his weight on his shoulder—wincing only slightly from the stress on his tired muscles—he gently brought the shoulder closer to his torso with his other hand, effectively turning his partner on their back. Smiling when his companion blearily opened their eyes, James smoothed his hand over the newly-exposed, flat stomach to rest on their bony hip. Playing with the sheet that was just barely high enough to cover what he really wanted, he leant down to kiss the mouth that was still swollen from last night.

A soft hum broke their kiss. “Good morning to you too.” 

“Sleep well?” James asked, absentmindedly running his thumb across the protruding hip bone. An affirmative moan came from below him and he gave his boyfriend of 3 years a peck on the lips. 

After the whole debacle of the Berlin mission two years ago, Bond’s gallivanting had come to a permanent end. He retired from MI6 and retreated to Skyfall. It was an old, isolated building, but he soon learned to call it home. After nearly a year of ordering handymen around and refurbishing the place, it was far less eerie and much more comfortable. He could go about a normal life. Years ago, the very thought would have made him cringe, but now he could do nothing but lounge around in sweatpants and watch films without even an itch to hold a gun. That wasn’t all he did—he still frequented his own target practice in the slopes of the backyard—but it was a slow, peaceful, well-deserved life. However, it wasn’t truly home without someone to share it with. Thankfully, that came soon enough.

Within a day or two of the one year anniversary of James Bond’s retirement, MI6’s brightest quartermaster followed his beloved agent to the sanctuary after an incident that involved his own capture and torture. Scarred by the occurrences, Q took leave from the job, but made a deal with M to keep working from his new home. After all, it was computer work. He saw less of the outdoors than usual seeing as he wasn’t making his commute to the office every day but he couldn’t be happier. He was with James. And his cats. 

Q was much more built for this kind of life, a domestic life, than Bond. However, the older man surprised him more than once by pulling him back down from long bouts of frantic working and anxiety-inducing thoughts instead of encouraging the progress of the missions. They were good for each other, many had told him. It was a fact that they were, but neither man had known it when they first got together. Now, however, they took turns soothing the other after the nightmares visited them again and again each night, James had come to love the cats and Q had come to love the public shows of affection by the ex-agent, and they went about domestically and un-domestically in a way that only they could do. 

“Want some tea, sweetheart?” 

“Yes please,” Q sighed shifting his weight to lean toward him. 

James couldn’t help but watch as the sheet slipped just a little bit lower on his hips. The idea of tea was long gone. With a smirk, he threaded his fingers through black curls, pulling the younger man’s head toward him for another kiss. This one much longer than the last. Leaning on his elbow, he moved on top of Q and gripped his hair tighter. Moving to Skyfall was the best decision he could have ever made. And then that thought was ruined.

A warm weight suddenly jumped onto the bed, purring and rubbing against Q’s leg. Laughing, the young ex-quartermaster broke the kiss. “And I love you most,” he said pulling the furball to his chest. “But don’t tell James alright? It’s our little secret” the young man whispered with a wink to the former agent. Another small body joined them on the bed. James moved back to his side of the bed with a sigh. _Those stupid cats._ Why hadn’t he shut the door? Another bout of morning fun ruined by those ridiculous balls of fur. After another huff of annoyance, he looked to his boyfriend and his look of pure love and affection made a little discomfort totally worth it. 

James can’t remember the last time he fired a gun. Maybe at the shooting range a year ago? But that was at a paper silhouetted target that he definitely didn’t tape M’s face over. His days were composed of the same routine over and over again with slight alterations of course if his night was significantly “busy.” Years ago, he thought he would have missed the action and the baddies. However, when he looks at Q’s face or hears his laugh from another room, he forgets all about his life before. All that matters to him now is the young man that he wants to spend the rest of his life with. And if putting down the gun and trading it for a lawn mower or a coffee cup means that he might just get in a couple more years with him, who was he to complain? 

Maybe James Bond was getting soft, but he wouldn’t change it for the world.


	2. Tea Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James comes home to find a surprise on the couch.

Parking the Aston Martin on the gravel path, James grabbed the plastic bags full of tonight’s dinner ingredients from the backseat. Hopefully Q was holed up in his office typing away for a MI6 project he isn’t authorized to do anymore. The ex-agent was planning on surprising him with a nice, home-cooked dinner. Today was their anniversary. 4 years the young genius has been stuck with him. A smile found its way to James’ face at the thought of their first encounter. So much as changed since then. He had been a sullen, stubborn man with no respect for his own fate and Q had been a quiet, smart-mouthed aviophobic that was more concerned for his cats’ wellbeing than his agents. Well, Q hasn’t changed that much, but James had. 

He let himself in, juggling the bags and trying to be as quiet as he could. He looked into the den. No Q in sight. The lights were dim in the house, making James wonder if the young man was even home. He headed to the kitchen, flipping on the light with his elbow and setting the bags on the island. The water in the kettle had long gone cold and an empty, well-used mug sat beside the stove. It was that stupid scrabble mug he had always kept on his desk at work. Bond hated Scrabble. Q never let him win. He sifted through the bags until he found the chicken cutlets, setting the package aside. His hands went for the vegetables next but froze halfway into the bag when he heard a soft cough from the den. Switching immediately to agent mode, he lifted his hands away from the plastic bags and reached for the gun hidden in the holster strapped under the countertop. Tiptoeing across the kitchen, he leaned to look past the archway and into the living room. Whoever it was must be hiding behind the furniture. Despite the cough, the house remained silent as it had been when he came in. 

Raising his gun with his finger on the trigger, he began to sweep the room. His search didn’t last very long and was ended quickly when he found the source of the noise on the couch. 

Q was sound asleep, his hair ruffled and baggy shirt—he’s not going to complain that the man only sleeps in his boyfriend’s shirts—slipping off his shoulder. Hands that had killed people with the press of a key were clutching a decorative pillow like a lifeline. Two little bodies were curled up between the ex-quartermaster’s stomach and the back cushion of the couch. James lowered his gun, a fond smile finding its way onto his face. Another cough emitted from Q’s lithe body, jolting the cats awake. Two pairs of judgmental, grouchy eyes zeroed in on James, flitting between the gun and his face looking like they were trying to decide which to attack first. As much as he loved Q and Q loved him, those cats would always have him on their hit list…even if he _was_ the one who fed them in the early hours before his daily jog. 

The cough didn’t seem to have woken the young man and he just snuggled further into the pillow, sniffing his congested nose softly. Q rarely got sick, but when he did it hit like a freight train. James took a moment to look around the room, now taking in black glasses hastily set on the table, an almost-empty tissue box next to yet another mug of tea and the over-abundance of crumpled tissues engulfing the floor. The most shocking thing was the lack of his laptop in the room. Poor thing. He must really be ill.

Wary of the two demons watching him, James rubbed his boyfriend’s back in what he hoped was soothing manner. He still didn’t wake up, stretching out his legs so that they were hanging off the arm of the sofa. Q rarely slept during the day, usually opting to be glued to his tea all day and typing away on his computer and finally succumbing to sleep in the early hours of the morning when he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. No matter how often he insisted that he was, in fact, retired from MI6’s quartermaster duty, James had caught him working on a mission on more than one occasion. Honestly, it didn’t surprise the ex-agent that his boyfriend was the one M turned to in times of need. He was a force of nature when you put a computer in front of him. His hatred of flying to other countries and any sort of weapon didn’t stop him from doing worse things in his short time with MI6 than James had done in all his years of being an agent. Losing their quartermaster had been a big deal for MI6. He’s the best they ever had and most definitely the best they will ever have in the entire lifespan of the agency. And the young man had chosen to leave the agency to live with him for hopefully a very long time. Maybe, if James played his cards right, the rest of his life. 

How had he gotten so lucky?

One after the other, the cats jumped over Q’s side and onto the floor, stretching out on the rug. He watched them as they cleaned their paws, noticing how they both kept a watchful eye on their dad and the awful man touching him. James moved to kneel beside the couch and the room was filled with a hissing sound as he accidently set his foot on a fluffy tail. Of course.

Q woke with a start and looked over his shoulder to the hand touching his back. His hand clutched the pillow, ready to throw it at his attacker as if that would actually stop them. Smiling to himself, James figured that it would actually stop intruders because they would probably be in shock. There was a red imprint from the zig-zag pattern of the pillow on Q’s cheek and his eyes quickly found his. He visibly relaxed when he saw who it was and turned back over to nuzzle against the pillow. Another sniffle followed. Pulling down Q’s shirt where it had ridden up to reveal his pale side, James cupped his hip and used his other hand to brush the hair away from his clammy forehead.

“Not feeling well, sweetheart?” he asked quietly, only receiving a slight nod and another sniffle. He really was pitiful when he was sick. Q waited, not saying a word and finally looked at him from the corner of his eye. James knew what he was waiting for. “Want me to get you some tea?”

“Mine’s empty.” His voice was scratchy, adding a bit of huskiness to his normally proper, didactic tone. Looking to the mug on the coffee table and then back to the young man, James smiled softly. He gave the pitiful boy a peck on the cheek—he didn’t want to get sick, after all—and pushed himself up off the floor, groaning with satisfaction when his back popped tiredly, and went to pick up the mug. Being mindful of the cats watching his every move, he went to go put the water on. 

“Don’t forget to let it steep for too long. Extra strong this time.” By this point in their relationship, James could practically mouth those words along with him. He makes one cup that was just a tad too weak and he’ll never let him forget it.

“One cup of Earl Grey coming right up. Or should I say warm milk with a splash of tea?” A pillow hit his back with surprising force and he chuckled. 

“You bring that back when you bring my tea.” 

Shaking his head, James continued on his way to the kitchen, hollering “I love you too” to his disgruntled boyfriend. Another sniffle, this time with a hint of annoyance. 

Pouring water into the kettle, he turned the stove on high and got busy getting the tea and milk. Q didn’t normally put too much of it in his Earl Grey, but being that he was ill, he would appreciate a hint of sweetness in his cup. But not too much. He’s made that mistake before as well. He waited as the water warmed up, slowly making its way to a soft boil. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw motion at the archway into the kitchen. Smiling to himself, he let Q come up behind him. He felt him watching the tea over his shoulder, no doubt making sure he did it right. He added a splash of milk to the cup, reaching for the kettle as it started to whistle. He threw a glance over his shoulder.

“Q, sweetheart, I’ve been making you tea for years. I think I know what I’m doing by now.” Of course, at that moment, he decided to miss the mug while pouring, putting boiling-hot water on his hand. 

He jumped back, basically throwing the kettle back on the burner and grabbing his hand. The sudden movement was too fast for Q and James ended up stumbling over him. He twisted around and caught the younger man before he fell back on the counter. He grabbed him by the hips, pulling him to his body instead of letting him hit the marble countertop. It was harder than he thought, given that the young man had wrapped himself in the quilt they kept on the couch. One small hand clutched his shirt while the other went for his burnt hand. His reddened index finger was suddenly engulfed by a warm mouth and Q sucked on it for a while, never breaking eye contact with the older man. The pressure felt good on his new burn and James couldn’t stop himself from imagining that wet mouth sucking on something else. Q’s eyes were watery and his nose was red. James thought back to the nearly empty tissue box.

Of course the cats chose to make an appearance, purposefully—yes purposefully, they had plenty of room to walk around them yet they chose to walk right over him—stepping on James’ feet and plopping themselves on either side of the two men, watching the exchange. Honestly, they were probably hoping that Q would bite his finger off like they have wanted to for a long time. 

“You’re gonna get me sick,” Bond teased. An affirmative moan came from the other man and a soft _pop_ filled the kitchen as his finger was released. His hand went back on Q’s slender hip.

“Then I’ll get to take care of _you._ ” Soft lips met his for a second and James brought him closer, trapping his hand in between them. It entangled itself in his shirt once more and James smiled. Without a second thought, he closed the distance between them again, this time much deeper and with no intention of stopping. 

But of course it came to an abrupt end when another loud sneeze filled the room.


	3. Picking Up The Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the young quartermaster needs someone to take care of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My take on the prompt by FanGirlAllGrownUp: "A thought: what if MI6 was under cyber-attack? Or all of SIS? Multiple hacks at one time from different places all hitting top priority systems. Someone looking to fire nukes or something and start a war. Or set off defensive missiles in their storage bunkers in the UK. Cripple London by taking over all systems ran by computer. Anyway, some huge thing that had M yelling for Q. Of course, after all of that, there would be fall out Band would have to help Q deal with. Especially if Q wasn't able to stop it all. How would he deal with the failure? The guilt if innocent people died?"
> 
> This prompt was so deep and I tried a different approach to it, but it was heartbreaking to write. So this is what I ended up with.

For the first time since its opening, Q branch was in a state of complete and utter chaos. Minions scurried around from station to station. The room was filled with frustrated shouts and the sound of rapid-fire typing on keyboards. England was under attack. Six cyber-attacks combined with physical assaults on the public and MI6 operatives. M stood at the front of the chaos with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. Moneypenny stood to his right, fingers dancing over the call button. A number was already typed into the keypad—has been for hours now—and she waited. 

“Do it.” Without a second thought, she hit the green circle and put it to her ear. The ringing tone started, nearly going all the way to voicemail until a voice came through before the last one.

“Moneypenny?” His voice was tired. She had obviously woken him up. Again. 

“Q. We need you.”

Back at Skyfall, the ex-quartermaster gave a quick, affirmative response and then tossed his phone back on the nightstand, flopping back into bed with an unnecessarily loud groan. Resting an arm over his eyes to shield them from the light peeking from behind the blinds, Q tried to wake up. It was 4 in the morning and after a long night with James after they finished their Doctor Who marathon, he was exhausted. Even though it’s been ten years since his sudden retirement—he was still young after all, but he supposed that his youth meant nothing compared to what he’d been through—MI6 still had him on speed-dial. Don’t get him wrong, he loved to serve under the Queen, but he’s had enough nightmares and post-traumatic flashbacks for a lifetime. 

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Great, now his husband was awake. He had been hoping he could slip away to his laptop without waking him. Without removing his arm, he moaned tiredly. A hand came to rest on his stomach, stroking his bare skin before trying to dip lower beneath the sheets. Q quickly grabbed the wandering hand and stopped it in its tracks, squinting as the light bombarded his eyes at the sudden loss of their shield. He looked at his husband, smiling fondly at the look of concern on the older man’s face. The smile disappeared when he remembered what had woken him in the first place. Giving James a peck on the lips, he moved to get out of bed with a rush of urgency that surprised the two feline companions at the foot of the bed. 

“Moneypenny called me,” he said as he looked for his underwear, pulling them on after finding where they had been thrown to the carpeted floor last night. “This heat of the moment clothing throwing had to stop. I can never find anything in the mornings.”

“Not my fault you’re so tempting.” James pushed himself up to a sitting position in bed to lean his back on the headboard. He looked at Q with a dark look in his eye that would normally send a pleasant shudder down his spine, but this early in the morning it was just irritating. Finding James’s sweats and an oversized sweater, he made a show of covering his body and gave a dirty look to the ex-agent. “Go get some tea. You’re not a morning person, baby.” 

Sticking out his tongue may have been silly from the thirty-something genius, but it felt appropriate in this situation. He heard a chuckle from the bed as he shut the door with a little more force than necessary.

Grabbing his laptop from the dresser, he quickly made his way downstairs. He went on autopilot, pouring water into the kettle and getting a mug ready while opening his laptop and getting access to the MI6 Q Branch server. Judging by the process his replacement had made, he was glad they came to him for help. Q shook his head. Sometimes he regretted retiring so early—after all, he still had a couple good decades of work in him when he had filed the forms—but he needed to do what was best for him at the time. And at that moment, leaving the agency was his only choice. He couldn’t stand the look of overwhelming relief from the teary-eyed James when he had finally woken up in that hospital bed after two weeks. A salty kiss silenced him before he could even greet his beloved agent. He had never seen James so desperate to keep a hand on him at all times to ensure himself that his quartermaster was still there. It was at that moment that he decided that they were too damaged. If they kept doing what they did, one of them would have been dead before they could live the life they wanted together. Before the bruises had cleared up and his arm had come out of the sling, he had completed his notice and given it to M. 

But that didn’t stop him from still working for them.

He was so absorbed in his work that he didn’t realize how much time had passed until a steaming mug of Earl Gray was placed beside his computer and a kiss graced the top of his head. Q might have thanked him, but he wasn’t sure. His typing didn’t falter as a hand rubbed his back.

“You hungry?”

“Yes please.” Ever since James came into his life—well, moved from being his burden of an agent to a horny burden at home—he had missed less meals. It had always come second to his work before he got involved with Bond. Maybe James would make pancakes. Despite his insistence that he couldn’t cook, he could make a mean chocolate chip pancake. Granted, he _had_ burnt himself on a toaster before, but he loved him anyway.

“How about some pancakes and fruit?”

_God, he loved this man._

Bond didn’t need an answer if the expression on his love’s face was anything to go by. Typing still filled the air. James went about making breakfast and Q went about saving London from cyber-terrorists. Just another day in Skyfall. After mixing the batter, James poured small circles of the thick liquid onto the heated griddle. He was just about to flip the first cake when sudden shouting and cursing filled the quiet kitchen. 

“No damn it!” was amongst the slur of profanities and groans that came from Q’s mouth.

Something was wrong. James turned off the griddle, half-cooked pancakes still simmering on the surface, and rushed to his husband’s side. He couldn’t do much to help since one look at the screen told him that it would all be gibberish to him, but sometimes Q just needed him there. Much like Bond needed him after an especially horrific nightmare. 

“What is it, baby? Anything I can do?”

“Not now James. We’re about to lose London.” 

_Oh._

The typing became more aggressive with more weight on each of the poor keys. Q chewed his bottom lip, leaning in some toward the screen as if it would help him do whatever he was doing. Suddenly, the screen went to his desktop wallpaper—of them cuddling with the cats, James was proud to see—and he was cut out of the server. 

“What happened?” James felt like such an old man when it came to the computer language his husband lived in. “Is that a good screen? Or a bad one?”

“Good I think. But it was too late anyway. An agent was already compromised. They should have called me earlier.” James didn’t need him to elaborate. This wasn’t the first time that they’d lost an agent when Q was behind the computer. 

“There was nothing you could have done.” James winced at how cliché that sounded. He immediately knew it was the wrong phrase when Q’s head whipped around, fixing him with an exasperated look that would have been cute if it hadn’t been directed toward him. Slamming his laptop shut, Q pushed away from the table, grabbed his tea, and walked out only to slam their bedroom door shut. The ex-agent sighed. This was Q’s fatal flaw. Whenever he was working a mission, he always took full blame when something went wrong or someone got hurt—except for on 007 missions. It was always James’ fault on those ones, but it killed him inside every time a mission had to be aborted or ended in a less-than-favorable way. James remembered the first time this had happened after their retreat to Skyfall.   
_  
Something clattered to the floor, shattering and waking James from the best sleep he’d gotten in a long time. He opened his eyes with a start only to realize that the warm weight on top of his chest that he had fallen asleep to was absent and the other side of the bed was cold. He was disoriented for a moment before shaking his head and sliding off the bed. Pulling on some boxers, he rubbed his face to wake up, cringing slightly at the stubble that had grown in overnight. He smiled at the memory of Q giggling in the dark of their room just hours prior when his stubble tickled the skin of his inner thighs. It’s moments like those that make James know that they made the right choice leaving MI6._

_Today marks the second month of sharing his grungy old home with his boyfriend. Bringing the young man to live with him had definitely brought life to the estate and to his dreary life. The cats were an unwelcomed addition, but he supposed that they came in a package deal with his adorable geek. Speaking of the cats, they were nowhere to be found. That’s odd. Normally they sleep curled by Q’s feet and James would wake to their glares as his stirring woke them up. Thinking back to the crash, he shook himself out of his thoughts and hurried downstairs. Hearing noises from the kitchen led him to almost step in a pool of brown, steaming liquid amongst the pieces of what used to be a mug._

_“Sorry I woke you. I’ll clean it up,” a tremoring, soft voice said. He found Q sitting at the breakfast table, knees drawn up to his chest and his eyes rimmed red. Fixing James with a soft, quivering smile, he adjusted himself on the chair and wrapped him arms around his legs. Stepping around the puddle and shards of ceramic, Bond made his way over to Q and wrapped him in his arms. Q didn’t move from his position, but leaned his head on the strong bicep near his face. A couple hiccups filled the silence in the room as they held each other._

_“Can I ask what happened?” Q nodded his head toward the island, where his laptop lay still open with his cat screensaver gliding over the black background._

_“M called me this morning. I tried, James, but we’d already lost so many people. I hacked into the server for their weapons, but it was too late. It’s my fault. It’s my fault that they’re dead. If I had been faster…”_

_James cut him off. “It’s not your fault. I know that whatever happened, it wasn’t you. That’s on them. You don’t work for them anymore.”_

_“I was just trying to help, James.” The young man’s body had curled in on itself even more. His voice had gotten quieter and became muffled as he buried his face in his arms. His shoulders started to shake as small sobs started making themselves known._

_“Alright, come on, sweetheart.” The ex-agent moved to his side, arm sliding across his back and the other squirming its way under his knees. He lifted his boyfriend out of the chair, smiling softly as a wet face nuzzled into his bare chest. Stepping over the spill again, he brought him into the living room and after Q only strengthened his hold around him when he tried to put him down, he settled for sitting down on the couch and pulling Q on top of him. “I know it may not seem like it, but you helped them. I’m sure a lot less people died because you were behind the screen typing away even though you don’t work with the agency anymore. I’m sure you saved more lives than you know.”_

_Q couldn’t do this to himself. After that disaster of a mission and after his stay at the hospital, James wouldn’t let him. He knew he was young and had to figure out his limits to see how deeply he could go into this job, but it killed him to see his young quartermaster hurt. Thin fingers gripped his shoulder since there was no shirt to bury them in. He leaned down to kiss the top of his lover’s head, rubbing circles into his back._

Sighing, James went to do what he always does at times like this, heading toward the bedroom door. He was shocked to find it unlocked, but he assumed that Q had done that intentionally. He never shut James out physically…just emotionally, his face turning void of any emotion that might let James have a hint of how heartbroken he was. The young man was good at hiding his feelings like that. He found Q sitting on their un-made bed just staring at the wall. The genius didn’t acknowledge him as he sat next to him on the bed. James took that as a good sign that he wouldn’t lash out like a few seconds prior, but the moment his hand touched that small back, he shifted to move away. Tired eyes found his. James had never seen them look so dull. A job at MI6 tended to do that to everyone who steps in the doors, but he had just hoped that it would never get to his beloved quartermaster and his snarky quips and smirks. 

He was wrong. 

“I can’t do it anymore, James.” He knew the feeling, but he never thought it’d come out of his love’s mouth. The voice that had barked orders and filled his ears with quick comebacks to his shameless flirting over the comm had never sounded so fragile. So broken.

“That’s why you’re here and not at your desk in Q branch.”

“I suppose you’re right.” He looked away to stare at the wall, his shoulders slumped.

“So you finally admit it.”

That got his eyes to light up, if only for a moment. “Now don’t get cocky on me, 007,” he said with a smirk. It quickly fell as he sighed and ran his hand through his unruly mop of hair, his fingers getting caught in a bad tangle. 

James wrapped his fingers around them, pulling them out of the knot and onto his chest. The rest of Q’s body followed to lean on James’ torso. The ex-agent went to work on de-tangling the mess of hair carefully. By the time he had finished, Q was asleep.

That was the last day that the quartermaster worked for MI6.


	4. More Than What Meets the Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if the art museum wasn't the first time Bond met Q?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry for such a long absence. I know you guys probably don't want to hear excuses, but I lost someone very dear to me and then was hit with insane writer's block. I hope to be more active and won't let you down!
> 
> Thanks to everyone still here! Enjoy a little glimpse of Q's backstory! Warning: very slight smut at the end ;)

M adjusted her purse strap on her shoulder as she strolled down the brick walkway. The campus was pristine, giving the university a regal feel with the cobblestone and brick architecture. Students were relaxing on the quad with their laptops, some sipping coffees and chatting animatedly with their peers. Scanning over the young faces, she didn’t see the bespectacled one they were looking for. 

“Are you sure his route to the study room is through here?” her companion asked. Rolling her eyes, she was about to make a snappy remark about how she was _always_ right, but she was cut short when a familiar mop of brunette hair caught her eye. The young man looked much younger than his picture in the database had depicted. They quickly adjusted their course to follow their target—at a distance, of course—and made sure to maintain their tourist façade.

“There’s our hacker.” The boy adjusted his classes as he walked, clutching a computer that was more sticker than laptop and keeping to himself as he walked down the winding brick walkway.

“Him? Kind of young to be such a threat.” James huffed, giving the student a once-over. M pretended not to notice that his eyes lingered on how the young man’s skinny jeans hugged his lean figure. 

“They come in all shapes and sizes. We know what he can do. Do not underestimate him, 007.” Bond’s smirk dropped immediately. The young hacker, now identified as this particular university student, had successfully made his way into MI6’s database on twelve occurrences despite numerous changes and updates of their security. It had taken weeks to pinpoint his location, let alone decipher his identity. They followed the student into the library, turning to look at a stack of magazines as their target stopped at a water fountain. The trio took the stairs to the quieter second floor. At the top of the stairs, the young man hesitated for just a moment, no doubt hearing two echoing sets of footfalls behind him. Adjusting his strap, he continued his journey to the hall of individual study rooms, picking the first available one and nonchalantly shutting the door behind him. M and Bond came to a stop about three rooms back. This was it. Nodding to her agent, M led the way toward the closed door. She knocked twice and didn’t wait for a response before letting herself in. The student was sitting at one of the four chairs surrounding a wooden table, laptop open and notebooks hastily strewn across his study area. Bond followed his boss in, noting how the young man pointedly ignored them and continued typing at his laptop. The kid was good at his poker face, but his thin shoulders tensed up slightly, giving away his nerves. 

The door shut with a soft click, leaving the three in a stuffy isolation. Only typing filled the air until M sat down across from the boy, motioning for Bond to take the seat next to hers. “Do you always wait for a command from your boss, agent? Seems contradictory to your aloof nature and the spontaneous holidays you take for yourself.” His eyes never left the screen and his fingers never faltered, but the young man’s lips twisted into a half-smile as he spoke. 

“Only to set a good example in front of haughty brats with no respect for personal privacy.” That at least earned the agent a brief pause in the continuous tapping at the keyboard. 

“So you know who we are. Do you know why we’re here?” At least M was remaining formal in this situation. If it were James’ decision, the kid would have been down on the ground before he had even reached the library. 

“Yes, I’m aware. Come to give me a warning? Good to see you brought your guard dog with you. I’m flattered that you feel I’m that much of a threat, ma’am.” James made to stand, but M put a hand on his shoulder and gave him her signature _Don’t you dare_ look. M stood from her seat and slammed the student’s laptop shut, barely missing his fragile-looking fingers. The young man’s disposition switched from snarky to infuriated in the blink of an eye. Leaning over the table, M locked eyes with the hacker. Bond was glad that look wasn’t directed toward him. He’s not gonna lie, it has been on him more times than he could count, but this time he was able to cross his arms across his chest and smirk as he waited for the show to start.

“No matter your age or how high-and-mighty you may feel about your skills are behind this outdated computer screen, you, young sir, are a threat to London and to the Queen herself. You have infiltrated MI6’s system more than a dozen times and you may think it’s a fun, little extracurricular to bide your time through university, but this man right here,” she pointed to Bond without breaking eye contact, “has national permission to kill anyone who is deemed a threat by the government. Now, I’m sure that he would take personal pleasure in using his license to kill on you after your little comments, but he’s retraining himself. Here’s what I want you to do right now. Think long and hard about this young man, because this can go only one of two ways. Either I let 007 eliminate the threat or the threat disappears entirely. Your choice.” She returned to her seat, pulling her cardigan back into position where it had become disheveled. What was she talking about? James looked to M for a moment and then went back to scrutinizing their hacker. 

Her little monologue had definitely put him into a bit of shock, seeing as he was frozen in his stare-off with the older woman. James remembered his first lecture with M when she first took over the position. Of course, his life hadn’t been threatened, but it still haunted him. In this moment of silence, Bond took the time to really get a look at the man across from him.

He was definitely too young to be a junior at university, which made sense because his record showed that he practically skipped all of middle school. His youthful face was definitely attractive for the snarky brat that he was and his unruly mop of hair and black glasses framed his face beautifully. Yes, James Bond just said a boy was beautiful. He was MI6’s resident ladies-man and had a remarkable reputation of getting women into his bed, but that didn’t mean that he was only attracted to women. No one knew that he had about 4 male lovers under his belt, but that didn’t stop him from appreciating a pretty thing even when he was on the job. The young man’s torso was wrapped in a striped turtleneck sweater that hugged his lithe frame in all the right places. It would be a shame if M ordered his death. Then he might not even get to know this feisty little genius. 

“So you have your agent kill me or…what? I promise to be on my best behavior and you leave me to work on my research project?” Bond was fixated on those pouty lips as they spoke to his boss. He _really_ hoped M didn’t order this boy’s death.  
“No actually. Either I have 007 do his job or you take your leave from university and come fill our open technical position at MI6.” This was news to James and shocked him from his trance. They travelled to the campus to catch a repeated threat to London _not_ offer them a government position. What the hell was she doing?

“Excuse me?” Apparently the boy was as confused as he was. Good.

“I’m saying that you are a threat to MI6’s operations. You understand this, yes?” The boy nodded, swallowing and pulling at this turtleneck. “If we leave this room without changing our situation, you’re just going to keep practicing your hacking ability and pose even more of a threat. Or you can continue your work legally in our quartermaster branch. You’ve proven your capability despite your age and we would be honored to have you working for us.” Bond couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Was M really willing to put a college student—a young one at that—in their 00 program? He knew the boy was good at what he does, but some agent would have to depend on his abilities in life or death situations. Was he ready for that responsibility? It didn’t matter how cute he was. Cuteness isn’t enough when there’s an agent’s life on the line. 

“Are you serious?” The boy’s strong accent was endearing and all tension left his slight frame. He fidgeted with his sweater sleeves until M nodded with a small smile on her face. Brown eyes locked with Bond’s only for a moment before they flicked back to M’s. Bond could practically see the gears whirring in that big brain of his as he took it all in and tried to decide if it was genuine or not.

“I’m speechless, really.” He said after a while.

“For once.” James retorted. That earned him twin nasty looks from the two other people in the room. Then a soft chuckle from the student. 

“I’d be honored.”

 

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“James! Put me down!” The older man ignored his husband of one day, carrying him bridal style into the Hawaiian bungalow. It was their wedding night and if Q wanted romantic, that was what he was going to get. Well, at least somewhat romantic. He gently set his hysterically laughing lover on the bed and went to the champagne in the ice bucket on the dresser. He poured two glasses and sat next to Q. 

“Your champagne, Mister Bond,” James said, giving Q his glass with a nod. The younger man let out a laugh and tapped his glass to the agent’s. He took a sip and put it on the nightstand, doing the same with James’ afterward. Seeing the confused look in the older man’s eyes, the genius smiled and wrapped thin arms around Bond’s neck. Their lips met eagerly and before he knew it, Q had lost his bowtie, blazer, and his shirt was half-unbuttoned. He reached for James’ suit, fumbling with the buttons until he was met with bare chest. The agent threw their clothes to the ground—ignoring the squeak of discontent from his lover—and went right back to that warm mouth, pushing Q backward until he was sprawled across the mattress, pinned by Bond’s body. 

Bond showered the lean chest and stomach beneath him with warm, open-mouthed kisses, leaving the occasional red mark from a love-bite. Q squirmed as Bond got lower, hips rising up in their search for friction. James chuckled against smooth skin, giving one last kiss to a bony hip. He looked up at Q, chest swelling with affection as he saw the flushed, panting mess of the normally composed quartermaster. “You know what us being in Hawaii means, right?” Q looked at him with confused, dilated eyes. 

“That I won’t be glued to my laptop?” That was indeed a benefit, but not what he was looking for. Not breaking eye contact, James moved his fingers to the zipper and buttons of Q’s black dress pants, taking his time and listening to every catch of the zipper on its track. 

“Well, yes, but it also means that I can defile you without your cats getting in the way.” He went to pull down the slacks in his hands, but he was stopped by a hand on his own. Q’s disposition was inappropriately serious for the situation he was about to find himself in, but the jesting gleam in his eyes betrayed his grave demeanor. 

“I’m afraid we’re a package deal, honey.” James frowned, leaning away from Q’s body in feigned disgust. 

“What a shame. I was just beginning to love you too.” 

Q smacked him playfully and they got back to celebrating.


	5. Here He Was

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On a snowed-in movie night, Bond remembers the incident that led to Q's retirement.

James Bond had never been the romantic type. He was more of a one-nighter kind of guy. More of a one-nighter with a beautiful woman kind of guy. 

Yet here he was. 

Q snuggled further into his chest, pulling the fuzzy blanket over himself as he stretched his legs out only to tangle them with James’ again. The ex-agent lay across the sofa with arms wrapped around the soft warmth of his husband. It was a frigid Saturday night in Skyfall, the freshly fallen snow creating the perfect atmosphere for a movie night surrounded by the warmth of the fireplace. It’s a Wonderful Life was playing on the TV above the fireplace. Had Bond known his boyfriend was so sappy, he would have picked the movie for tonight. He had stopped watching a _long_ time ago, choosing instead to run his hand up and down Q’s back and memorize every detail of his youthful face as it watched the screen with droopy eyes. Every couple minutes, the hand on his chest would clench in his shirt just a little tighter; an unconscious movement that let James know he was still there.

The older man thought back to just a few months ago and how he thought that nights like these were over. 

_  
James was on the finishing touches of his surprise for Q. It was his birthday and while he normally doesn’t celebrate it—or, in order words, have anyone to remind him of it—Bond was determined to make this one the best one he’d ever had. He had finally gotten the wrapping paper to fold right and taped it up when his cellphone rang. Please don’t be Q coming over early. More often than not, James went to his boyfriend’s apartment for the night, but he had told the quartermaster to come to his tonight after he got off work. Setting the present down, he found his phone on the counter under all the grocery bags. It was Moneypenny._

_“James. I’m so sorry.”_

_“Hello to you too, Moneypenny.”_

_“Q is gone.” His blood ran cold. He could faintly hear Moneypenny’s words, but it was as if his heartbeat would burst out of his ears any moment. “No one can find him. He was walking into the parking garage, but his car never left. We can’t find him on the cameras. James, he’s gone. M advises you not to do anything stupid until we figure out if it’s who we think it is.” Don’t do anything stupid, she says. James was not about to lose another person he loved. He had finally found someone who just gets him and loves him. Someone he wants to spend the rest of his life with. He wasn’t going to lose him._

_Don’t do anything stupid? Of course he was going to do something stupid._

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_Four months went by before they got Q back. James, Moneypenny, and M waited outside the dilapidated building, waiting for a signal from the bug they planted on the perp’s bag. After an hour of waiting, the speaker crackled to life and Bond was running immediately. Ignoring M’s call, he burst into the building. Two guys were waiting for him, but they didn’t even get a chance to raise their guns before they dropped to the floor, blood seeping from their foreheads. He must have made his way through 20 more armed men before the floor was cleared. The house was empty, but James hadn’t found what he was looking for. What he needed. Keeping his gun up, he checked all of the rooms before finally finding the stairwell to the basement. How original._

_He made his way down the creaky stairs carefully, nearly tripping down the last few steps in the dark. It wasn’t his most graceful moment. There was no light in the basement and the air was stiff; the only sound filling the room was a leaky pipe dripping somewhere in the darkness. There were thin streaks of light filtering in from the small, barred window in a corner of the wall. As he made his way further in the basement, he nearly tripped over something laying across the floor._

_His heart nearly stopped._

_Dropping his gun, he squatted and looked at the pile more closely. His hand landed on a familiar, boney shoulder and his fears were confirmed. Trying to still his frantically beating heart, he pulled on the shoulder until Q rolled over. Why wasn’t he moving? He had to be moving. He ran a hand through the blood-matted hair. Leaning over, he moved his cheek to Q’s nose. Tears sprang to his eyes when he felt the soft puff of air. He didn’t know how, but his Q was still alive. He ran his eyes over the rest of Q’s small frame, counting the injuries. Head injury, broken arm, bruised torso (probably bruised or broken ribs underneath that soft skin), cuts and scrapes along his legs, and bruising at the hips. He really hoped that wasn’t what he thought it was. If he hadn’t already done so, he’d kill the person that did that to him._

_“Q, sweetheart, wake up,” he said softly, smoothing his hand over Q’s clammy forehead. His boyfriend didn’t wake up, but his brow furrowed slightly. “I’m gonna get you out of here. Hold on, baby.” He slipped his arms under Q’s back and behind his knees, gently lifting him off the floor and into his arms. His lithe body remained limp, but his eyes blinked open ever so slightly. He looked around, bewildered, and tensed up. His glasses were nowhere to be found and James could imagine what this looked like behind blurred vision. The older man froze, waiting for the genius to process what was happening. No use moving and having him thrash about. After a moment, Q seemed to be able to focus on his face._

_“J-James?” his voice was broken and rough, making it clear that he hadn’t used it in a long time._

_“Yeah, sweetheart.” Q relaxed immediately, resting his head on Bond’s chest and wrapping shaking arms around his neck. His body went limp again and he was asleep._

_“I’ve got you.”_

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_Three weeks went by and Q hadn’t been conscious enough to say anything more than the one word he said in the basement. In those three weeks, James barely left his bedside, holding onto his good hand. The monotone beeping filling the room had just lulled the older man to sleep when he felt the hand in his tighten around his fingers. He looked up from where his head was resting on Q’s chest to see sleepy, brown eyes and a soft smile looking back at him._

_“J-James.”_

_“James.”_  
  
“James!” 

Q’s voice jolted him from his daydream. The room had gone dark with only the flickering fire letting him see his husband’s face. “I said the movie’s over. You alive in there?” He smiled, gently knocking on James’ forehead. 

“Very funny.” Grabbing Q’s wrist, he pulled him around so he was on his stomach. Their lips met only for a brief moment before Q pulled away. 

“What were you thinking about?”

“Nothing.” Smooth, Bond, real smooth. Q gave him a look and then pushed off his chest to grab the remote off of the coffee table. James stopped him before he could settle back down, taking the remote out of his hand and tossing it to the floor. 

“James, wha—” he was cut off when James rolled them over and captured his lips with his own, pinning him to the cushion. Their hands intertwined and James pushed Q further into the sofa. Slender legs wrapped around James’ waist, squeezing tight and pulling him closer. Their kiss grew heavier, becoming open-mouthed and sloppy. Hands found themselves on the older agent’s waist, grasping his shirt and pulling it up. They pulled apart only to get his shirt over his head and were right back to it before the clothing even hit the floor. 

_  
“How is he?” Moneypenny asked when he shut the door behind him, leaving the two in the sterile air of the hospital hallway._

_“Well, he’s conscious, so better than the last few weeks.” Moneypenny breathed a sigh of relief. Like Bond, she had been a frequent visitor to the hospital, but she had work to attend to, so she wasn’t staying there like the older man. “He has a concussion and they put him on pretty heavy pain medication so he’s a bit out of it. He saw you through the window. You can go talk to him yourself if you’d like.” She smiled her thanks and quietly walked into Room 007. James still chuckled whenever he passed the number plaque. For a while, it was the only thing that erased the frown and worry from his face. With Q awake, he was ready to keep moving toward his boyfriend’s recovery. He knew they were far from reaching that goal. Even when the wounds heal and the young genius is released from the hospital, he’ll have invisible scars from the months of torture and torment. And despite Q’s insistence that he was fine, James took it upon himself to make those scars hurt less and less each day._

_As he watched Moneypenny talk to the fragile boy from the bedside chair, he saw Q glance briefly in his direction with a soft smile and flush to his otherwise pale face._

_He was going to be alright.  
_

Blue eyes slowly blinked open, squinting at the stream of light through the hastily-drawn curtains. The haze of the early morning illuminated the small bedroom, casting beautiful shadows on its inhabitants. Stretching his long limbs, James squeezed his arm tighter around the man in his arms. Soft hair, disarray from their previous activities, tickled his nose and stuck in his stubble as he kissed the top of Q’s head. He heard a soft moan and felt the younger man’s body move, snuggling into his chest and relaxing with a sigh. Bond shifted to reach for his phone, but he was held still by his husband. 

“Go back to sleep,” came a husky whisper. He felt soft lips kiss his chest. 

“Someone’s groggy this morning.”

“Wonder why I’m so tired?” This question was greeted by laughter, which tousled Q with the movement of James’ chest. James reached to pull Q’s chin toward his, pecking him on the lips. Q’s eyes remained shut, but his lips curled into a smile against his. 

James never pictured a happy ending for himself. He always imagined a bloody, shoot-out ending where he blinked and didn’t ever open his eyes again. He imagined Q shouting his name over the comm when he didn’t respond and Moneypenny embracing his small body as he collapsed in on himself when it cut out. Hell, he never imagined someone he loved enough to stay with. Someone he would trade his life for and who would trade their own life for his. He never imagined leaving his job and seeking solace in Skyfall, coming to love the quiet mornings, and cherishing the mundane routine of the civilian life. He never imagined waking up next to his quartermaster and kissing him awake every morning. 

Yet here he was.

And he wouldn’t change it for the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably going to be the last chapter :( Thank you all for sticking with me and giving our Bond and Q so much love. Thank you all so much for reading my fic. It means the world to me!

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to comment any suggestions on what these two should do next and maybe it'll happen!


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